A MARCH RAMBLE. 1 9 



have taken an active part in tlie circulation; so 

 this is why the heart-wood first dies and begins 

 the process of decay from the center, in such kinds 

 of trees. 



The choppers have been cutting and cording 

 with the oak-wood, some sweet-scented black birch 

 sticks. How beautifully polished is the bark of 

 reddish bronze, like cherry-tree bark, and the 

 inner layer of green liber is as sweet and aromatic 

 as a checkerberry lozenge, so different from the 

 disagreeable tannic-acid of the oak. 



The voice of the crow yonder is not unpleasing, 

 for it teaches a lesson of hardihood, perseverance 

 and cheerfulness. There is a shade of pathos 

 withal, that appeals to the sympathy. What a 

 season of starvation has been his, and yet amid all 

 his hardships how strongly and hopefully he has 

 " pulled through " the cold winter months. Like 

 his celebrated ancestor " Grip," in Barnaby Rudge, 

 he possesses the same buoyant spirits. "Never 

 say die " is uttered in tone, if not in word, with as 

 much animation. The love of home is strong 

 within his black breast, and the old pine-tree is the 

 central point from which this couple for years 

 have viewed the world, and where now they come 

 to talk over again the matter of housekeeping. 



